I associate summer with love. Not the "summer love" you would typically think of--summer flings, boyfriends and girlfriends and such--but just love in general, from friends and family, the kind that keeps you going.
Once I started college, at the end of every spring semester, I'd always pack up my car and take the long, 7-hour drive home. I drive alone--my Camry only has room for me and my stuff, and nothing more--and during those 7 hours, a transition takes place in my brain. The mental state I'm coming from is chaotic. Finals week is still going on, and everyone is still studying fanatically and wrapping up loose ends before the four month reprieve. Finals week is the craziest, but really, my mind has been in this state for the past eight months, so it's crackling and overloaded. During this drive, I calm it down. I remind myself, I am going home.
Once, the idea of home and school were melded together inextricably. School, and my friends, were only a short drive away. Everything was close by, tied together, and comfortable. Everything was as it should be. I knew where I was, and I knew where I was going. However, as all things do, that's changed. Now, whenever someone mentions Georgia, I am filled with a sense of nostalgia and peace. The two parts of "home" and "work" have slowly, but surely, become unglued. North Carolina--that's where all the work is, the late nights up writing papers, the dramas of relationships. But Georgia... now Georgia... that's the place I go home to for a breather, when I need to get away from all the demands of university, and probably, growing up.
Once I started college, at the end of every spring semester, I'd always pack up my car and take the long, 7-hour drive home. I drive alone--my Camry only has room for me and my stuff, and nothing more--and during those 7 hours, a transition takes place in my brain. The mental state I'm coming from is chaotic. Finals week is still going on, and everyone is still studying fanatically and wrapping up loose ends before the four month reprieve. Finals week is the craziest, but really, my mind has been in this state for the past eight months, so it's crackling and overloaded. During this drive, I calm it down. I remind myself, I am going home.
Once, the idea of home and school were melded together inextricably. School, and my friends, were only a short drive away. Everything was close by, tied together, and comfortable. Everything was as it should be. I knew where I was, and I knew where I was going. However, as all things do, that's changed. Now, whenever someone mentions Georgia, I am filled with a sense of nostalgia and peace. The two parts of "home" and "work" have slowly, but surely, become unglued. North Carolina--that's where all the work is, the late nights up writing papers, the dramas of relationships. But Georgia... now Georgia... that's the place I go home to for a breather, when I need to get away from all the demands of university, and probably, growing up.
